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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



This Book of Poems is dedicated to tiie soldiers of tiie late 
war, both North and South. 



Two of the best Poets in St. Louis, pronounce it splendid. 

Yours trulj-, 

Capt. Browx. 




TITLE. PAGE. 
Autumn 3 

A Sea Voyage 4 

Action of the Heart 5 

Burning of the Stonewj 11 6 

A Mischievous Babe 7 

A Soldier's March S 

Christmas Eve 9 

Disappointment ----- 12 

Comfort Abroad 13 

Darkness on Sea 14 

Cheerfulness IS 

Evening , 15 

Description of a Storm 16 

Eternity 18 

Fleeing for Refuge -, '.■■.■. 19 

Grandmataa's Birthday 22 

Greenwood's Sunny Meadow 26 



CONTENTS. 

Golden Daj'S 27 

Life 28 

My Pretty Little Bird 29 

Return of Spring - 30 

Now— the Present Time.' 31 

Ruins of Time 3- 

Star of Bethlehem 33 

St. Elmo's Dream 34 

Thoughts of Childhood 35 

Sunbeams 36 

Song of a Seamstress 37 

Once More We Stand 38 

What Fancy Sees 39 

The Wind and the Rose 41 

The American Eagle 42 

The Dude and Miss Maria 43 

The Chimney Sweep .46 

The Bell 48 

The Battle Fields 49 

The Church Bell - 50 

The Church Yard Gate 51 

The Dying Christian 52 

The Evening Shadow 53 



CONTENTS. 



The Day is Past and Gone 53 

The Geranium 54 

The Old Cobbler 55 

The Morning Dew 5^ 

The Old Year 57 

The Pilgrims 5^ 

The Rosebine Woodland 59 

The Queer Old Maids 6o 

The Silver Moon 63 

Work while the Sun Shines 63 

The Temperance Flag 64 

The Turk and the Knight 65 

The Snow Shower 67 

The Wind 68 

The Waves 69 

The Villiage Scene ~ 70 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 



/^iJtumi?- 



When the goMen leaves of Autumn 
Sink beneatli a stormy sky, 

And the stream of rippling water 
Gushes forth her farewell song, 

And the birds that used to warble 
In the tall and shady trees. 

Now lie scattered through the garden- 
Leaves of golden and of brown, 

Over forest, down the valley. 

Everywhere that Autumn dwells. 

Faded and forlorn, are scattered, 
Leaves of golden and of brown. 

And the golden fields of Autumn, 
Laden with the yellow corn, 

From the soil of careful culture, 
Sown in days of Summer past. 

Now the farmer reaps his harvest, 
'Neath the fadeless Autumn tree. 

And his children love to gather 
Leaves of golden and of brown. 



THE GOLDEN KOD. 



f\ S(?a l/oya^e. 



The golden sun is sinking 
Beyond the western sky, 

And, as I watch and listen, 
A ship comes sailing by. 

I hear the captain's laughter, 
While cheering on his men, 

For a sailor's life, you remember. 
Is more than we can tell. 

In storms they are the leaders 
To climb the rugged sails, 

The first to cast the anchor, 
Where ere they go astray. 

Though they are used to sea -life. 
Are brave as brave can be, 

Nor never shrink from danger. 
When the tossing waves begin. 

Oh when they reach a harbor, 
Their hearts are full of joy. 

For days and days they journey, 
Out on the rolling sea. 

Again, when they are sailing 
Upon the great blue sea, 

Behold a spot of sea weeds 
Blooming there beneath. 

Behold the sea in darkness. 

No mind can comprehend 
Its waters, gleaming with fishes. 

Shining in the sea below. 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 



What wonders they see, 

As they sail along, 
Mermaids of every shape, 

Who appear for a while, 
And then sink down 

Beneath the silver wave. 

The whale, of which a monster strong 

Dives deep beneath the sea. 
Who appears for a while near the distant shore, 

Ready to grasj) tlie whole. 

The sailors searched for the sharp harpoon 

And thrust it into his side, 
While the bleeding monster dived with pain 

Beneath the bloody wave. 



fleti09 of t\)(^ }1(?art. 



How the stream of rushing red 

Flows along its weary way. 
Through the channel that nature holds, 

Through the warm and tender heart. 

Toward the right a darker stream, 
The left of which a crimson red, 

While through the pipes so very small, 
She enters again to the tender heart. 

All through the night, this sleepless heart. 
Stores the life within her walls, 

And when the morning's sun appears, 
Like a clock, is beating still. 

But how that throbbing heart of man 
Pleads within when Death is near. 

Year after year it ever beats. 
At last to cease within the breast. 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 



Bur^ip^ of tl^e Sto^i^u/all. 



It was midniglit on the river, 

And a cry was on the deep. 
From the captain's voice so thrilling, 

As he stood upon the deck, 

And the flames swept o'er that palace, 
From the water's silvery edge, 

Like a storm of fire and thunder, 
Blazing from the depths below. 

Soon the cry of voices echoed, 

Through that solemn midnight air 
"Shall we perish, sliall we perish, 
. Midst the Stonewall's burning flame?" 

"No." said one among the dying, 
"God may save us at His will." 

But the flames swept on the faster, 
And the skies seemed brighter still. 

Still the river's silvery waters 

Flowed around that crimson deck, 

While the moon gazed down from heaven 
On the suffering lost below. 

And no more that captain's clatter 
Could be heard upon the deck, 

While the cry of voices calling, 
Sinking, dying in the stream. 

Yet she sailed in wondrous beauty, 

Glided in a sweeping flame. 
Through the stillness of a midnight. 

Precious souls were seen no more. 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 



And when the sun shone forth so bright, 

In the morning's autumn "breeze. 
Behold that sad, disastrous Stonewall, 
Lost forever in the flames. 



P [T[\sQ\)\(^\JOiis Bab(^. 



Of all the pictures that liang on the wall. 
Is one to remember — the baby, of all. 

With plump rosy cheeks and soft, bright eyes ; 
With two lit'le feet that creep around. 

He's placed on tlie carpet so prett}'- and gay, 
Without a soul to watch him at play. 

For mother has left the room for a while. 
To see to the dinner about on the fire. 

First thing he spies is a lovely gold watch. 

Which some one has left in mistake on the chair ; 
And right to the spot without a bad fall. 

He goes for the watch with his two little hands. 

What wonders he sees, when opening the case, 
Two little hands just as busy as his ; 

And tossing the chain about in the air, 
Rubs it together with his two white hands. 

Soon he grows tired of the pretty gold watch ; 

Then otf he goes for the rubber ball. 
Tossing it up in a merry glee, 

Looking to see if there is any one near. 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 



/^ SoIdl(?rs [\\2re:). 



All beside a rocky cliff, 

I saw the troops arrayed, 
I saw the gleaming helmet lance, 

The beautiful parade. 

Gallantly the soldiers tread, 

Beneath the soft blue sky, 
They charged their arms and sounded drums, 

The captain at their side. 

Then over plains and valleys green, 

They marched in quiet step. 
Till darkness hid away their plumes. 

And hushed each noisy cry. 

Oh when the morning^s golden sun. 
Beamed o'er those fragrant hills. 

Those fair young men of beauty strayed 
To regions far away. 

Their shining swords were ever seen, 

In sculpture's clothes, to kill. 
They charged their arms as warriors do. 

And wrought each noble deed. 

Through dark ravines and misty caves, 
These brave young troops were led : 

Till triumph in her beauty shone, 
And signaled in the skies. 

Then let me be a soldier brave, 

And march to conquer lands. 
And swell the loud triumphant phrase, 

"Oh victory, give me thine." 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 



(^j?ri5tmas Eue. 



'Twas Christmas eve, 

When little Sue 
Wished so much 

For something new. 
So many days 

Now passed away 
Before her Christmas 

Joys to see. 

Her mother had been 

Called that day 
To Lady Morris', 

By the way, 
Arranging for old 

Santa Claus, 
That he must come 

Without delay. 

So Fred and Sue 

Were placed in bed, 
Each little heart 

So tired of play. 
Their stockings hung 

Near the mantel below, 
And the two little tods 

Were fast asleep. 

"How nice," said mamma, 
As she opened the door, 

To lind her little children 
Wrapt snugly and warm, 



10 THE GOLDEN ROD. 



While the jingling of bells 

And whistles, too, 
Gave tidings of Christinas' 

Good will to all. 

Click, click, came old 

Santa, from the far 
Chimney top. 

With his long white beard 
And an old fur cloak, 

Not a moment to spare, 
So many little folks, 

And was off on 
His journey through 

The bounding snow. 

Now the stockings were filled 

Of the two little ones, 
With candies and nuts, 

And live sugar plums. 
A doll for Miss Susan, 

A sleigh for young Fred, 
A great tree in splendor. 

Stood waiting ahead. 

And the long hours of night 

Crept faster toward day. 
While the snow was yet falling 

In flakes through the air. 
The ground was all covered, 

For it was fair Christmas day. 
And the two merry children 

Rose early from bed. 

'•Oh! mamma," they cried, 

As she entered the door. 
"Just see !" said little Fred, 

"What Santa has brought ! 
A doll for Susan, a sleigh for I, 

And lots of candies and nuts beside. 



THE GOLDEN ROD- 



"Then what do you say 

To good Santa Clans, 
Who never forgets his dear little boys, 

So anxious to see 
His little ones bright. 

With toys and candies 
And everything nice?" 

"Oh thanks," said little Susan, 

And also Fred 
"We promise, dear ina, by another year, 

To be better children 
Than we were last year." 

"Be sure," said mamma, 

"That you do not forget. 
For when you're not thinking, 

You say, 'I don't care' ; 
Remember that Santa 

Can hear every word, 
And the next Christmas morning 

May get nothing more." 

So. kissing each little one, 

With hearts of content, 
She left them alone, 

While seated at play. 
And the first one she heard 

Was proud little Fred, 
Who was teasing his sister 

And pulling her hair. 



12 THE GOLDEN ROD. 



Disappoir^tm^Qt. 



Where do thou comest, 

Oh sad disappointment; 
Hast thou whirled through the shadowy night, 

And placed thyself in man's only heart, 
To rob it of joy and of peace ? 
Yea, through the brightest of clouds I sail, 

From the far distant hills away ; 
Just on the eave of joy and love, 

I spread my mantle between. 

When kindly thoughts 

Have planned a new road, 
I come as a lion to devour 

The new inventions, the new intentions, 
Destroyed in a moment them all. 

What graves have been opened, 

Her coming to bear ; 
'Mid skies of its brightest day, 

And turned gladness into sadness ; 
By the sorrow she brought to man. 

What warning she gives, 

In midnight alone, 
When darkness has settled her flight ; 

She appears in a dream 
To the ones that think not, 

And tells them of danger beyond. 

When love in her majesty 

Has thought of so long ; 
To win the fairest of all. 

Then in a moment, that sad disappointment, 
Like an arrow she casteth away. 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 13 

Then why dost thou moan 

For thy sad disappointment; 
Hast thou not seen, in the days of old, 

That wlien love abounded ; 
Like the dew of the morning, 

She stole the rare treasure away. 



<$o/T)fort /Abroad. 



Cast your eyes upon the water, 
Where the ship sails stately on. 

Where the God of heaven watches, 
On the wanderer far away. 

None forgotten, none forsaken. 
By the eyes of Him who rules ; 

Over stars, through countless ages, 
Always watching from above. 

Ill the brightest, in the darkest, 
When the waves are dashing high. 

Though our hearts be often troubled, 
He's around us everj'where. 

Often when our friends deceive us, 
And perhajjs the dearest one. 

Yet we have a comfort dearer. 
That the Lord is with us still. 

Let our fears and doubt be broken 
When we're sailing far abroad; 

Or when danger ccmeth nearer. 
For He's with us evervwhere. 



U THE GOLDP]N HOD. 



Darl^9es5 09 S^a. 



Dark, dark, dark ! 

Beneath thy cold, giey sky, 
There is not a star to be seen this night, 

To shed her silver beams. 

Cold, cold, cold! 

On the beautiful waters of sea. 
Oar little ship sails sprightly on, 

Beneath the starless sky. 

Dark, dark, dark ! 

No beautiful inoon to-night. 
She has hidden herself away in a cloud. 

While our ship sails lonely on. 

Dark, dark, dark! 

A fog has gathered at morn, 
While the cold grey mists hang heavy below, 

And the sound of the tide floated near. 

Dark, dark, dark ! 

How the rain begins to pour 
Faster and faster the drops beat down 

Against the rugged sails. 

The whistling wind blows, too. 

Amid the drizzling rain. 
And they together dance and sing. 

Throughout the weaiy night. 

Day after day, sometimes, 
The darkness has covered the sea, 

With only the lighthouse, a faithful guide, 
While we sailed so lonely on sea. 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 15 



C^l^eerfdJli^ess. 



Sweet is the day of toil, 

When into the vineyard we go. 

Striving with every foe, 
Without a word of despair. 

Sweet is the hour of rest, 

When the evening shadows have past, 
To behold our minds in fairyland. 

Dreaming the honrs awa}^ 

Sweet is the hour of prayer ; 

When to Thee we kneel for aid, 
From worldly cares our senses teach 

We should be near Thy hand. 

Sweet is the time for praise, 
When hearts no joy can tell. 

Of Him who saved us from all sin, 
And wipe away each fear. 



Oh how pleasant is the evening. 
When the sunset day is past. 

And the breezes from the waters, 
Fan across the fevered brow. 

See the clouds so bright above us. 

In their azure robe of night ; 
While the evening star appeareth 

In the distant sky above. 



16 THE GOLDEN ROD. 


See the flowers on the hillside, 

In their little beds so low. 
While their heads with dew are sparkling. 

In the twilight shade so cool. 




How the children loi/e to wander. 
Up and down the shady dell, 

Looking for the clover blossoms. 
In the beautiful evening shade. 




So the evening and the morning 
Are the queens of all the day. 

But the evening is the happiest 
Of a Summer's sultry reign. 




De5(:riptioi7 of a Storm, 




They gazed on every side. 

And lifted their eyes toward heaven. 
For every hope was buried deep 

Before the storm appeared. 


Great branches were shivered down 
i From some of the tallest trees, 

While the smaller herbs were stripped 
From their verp roots below. 




The waters whirled into eddies, 

Out of the flowing rills ; 
The birds that flew from a quiet nest, 

Sought shelter beneath the rocks. 




The heavens were now thrown open. 

Amid the thunder afar ; 
Like a far and distant canon, 

It sounded through the land. 





THE rxOLDP]N ROD. 

In a moment all was calm, 
Dead silence now remained. 

And lo the sound of thunder 
And the lightning gleamed afar. 

Not a single sound was heard. 
Save the splashing of the wave. 

Along she beat with tremendous force; 
Against a rocky shore. 

Again the darkness appeared, 

And the heavens now seemed afire, 

Or blazed afar with celestial li j,ht, 
Flashing from side to side. 

Soon beast and rider were numbed, 
From the gushing rain that poured. 

And the blinded beast in terror sank, 
Beneath that dreadful storm. 

In a moment a terrific noise, 

They knew not what. 
A vibration shook them, 

And every terror sank. 

It seemed as a mighty mount, 

Unable to suspend. 
Its weight of waters of the earth. 

And shook with fearful peal. 

The great grey peak, 

Tottered as it stood ; 
It shook, it fell, 

Buried in its ruins 
The castle and village. 



IS THE GOLDEN ROD. 



Eti^ri^ity. 

Eternit}^ whose endless name, 

Forever thou shalt reign, 
Above the skies, beneath the eartlf, 

Through everlasting bliss. 

Eternity, a long farewell 

To earth's cold, troubled sea, 
Where death prevails in silence dread, 

Beyond thy steps afar. 

Eternity, what sayest thou. 

Of millions passed away ? 
Have they crept into thy fold, 

Where the fields of Eden lie? 

Have they reached that peaceful wave. 

Where sorrow can never roll, 
And where the sk}^ is always bright. 

And tears are washed away ? 

Nay, some have passed in sands of time. 
Through shadows of death below. 

Through endless days of sin and woe. 
They could have reached the shore. 

But through the paths of sin they trod ; 

They never looked to God, 
Till death's cold, threatening wave had crossed 

And led their spirits on. 

Then, oh Eternity, thy peaceful shore, 

Prepared by Him alone, 
Shall lead His children by the hand 

Into thy precious fold. 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 19 



pi(^ei9§ for I^efu^e. 



"We must flee," said Eliza, 
As she grasped her only son. 

"We must flee for our Creator's sake ; 
Where refuge might be found." 

The child awoke from a morning nap, 

And rubbed his dreamy eyes, 
He knew that something must be wrong. 

By the tears in his mother's eyes. 
She said, "I must not linger long. 

For fear I shall be caught, 
And have my boy, my only boy ! 

Be captured for a slave." 
"That" — and she murmured low, 

"God save my infant son ; 
The grave may open, if it be Thy will. 

Instead of a miserable slave." 
And as she held him in her arms. 

She stopped to bid adieu 
To the little farm once dear to her, 

A mistress kind and true. 
So, holding a bundle and child in arms, 

She made for the opening fields, 
And flew like a bird in rapid speed. 

Never stopping a moment to breathe. 
It was early morn before the sun 

Had shed her golden beams. 
Yet the chirping birds were ever seen 

In the lofty trees so gay. 



20 THE GOLDEN ROD. 



Slowly in step she crossed a path, 

Which led to another road ; 
And over the hills and meadows green, 

She crossed a silver stream. 

She heard the shOut for a mile away 

Of the trader's voice so stroni?. 
The negroes whooping in the distant fields, 

Aroused her every nerve. 

"Hush, hush, you naughty child, 
Don't you know that our master is near ? 

Heaven only knows what I shall do 
If I should thus be caught." 

So, hastening her step o'er the little bridge. 

She felt almost assured 
That God had answered her fervent prayer. 

In the hour when death see ned nigh. 

For the trader's voice could not be heard ; 

That whooping noise had ceased, 
And now the sun looked forth so bright, 

From the beautiful sky above. 

Oh ! how I long to reach that land 

Where refuge might be found. 
But, looking up, behold a sight, 

A river of floating ice. 
Yet never a fear from that brave heart. 

Though the ice was floating fast. 
She leaped across o'er the fearful tide, 

Without a single fall. 
She almost fainted when at last arrived 

To a little Quaker inn. 
And inquired if she might stay and rest, 

For being so very tired. 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 21 

"What is the trouble, my good wife, 

Is this your little boy >" 
"Oh yes," replied the mother sad, 

"This is my only son. 

I've tied from home, a beautiful home, 

Far away in the sunny South, 
They've sold my boy for a miserable slave, 

To a trader who can't be named. 

And so I'm bound for refuge land, 

Oh ! how I long to see ; 
Where he shalllearn the blessed truth. 

Till he becomes a man." 

"Certainly, you shall stay to-night. 

And, therefore, rest assured 
That never a trader will enter my door. 

To capture that brave little boy." 

"Thank you, thank you, a thousand times," 

Said Eliza, with a smile ; 
"But I must rise at break of day, 

And be on the run again. 

My master will be in full pursuit. 

He saw me cross the ice. 
But viewing the river from the water's edge, 

Would not attempt to cross." 

At break of day, Eliza awoke. 

Without any breakfast prepared, 
She rolled some bread in a napkin or two, 

And was off on a journey again. 
As soon as she reached the bordering line, 

Her master was out of pursuit. 
For this was the path that lead to the road, 

Where freedom was ever found. 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 



Alone slie traveled through endless pain. 

Alone through a solitary way. 
But that great God had brought her safe, 

And she murmured not a word. 

So presently a sight beheld, 

Which came to the weary child, 
And the branching tree spread forth its shade, 

For its welcome guest to pass. 

Day after day she trudged along, 

Hoping and wishing for home. 
Oh God, she prayed both night and day 

That she might soon be home. 

Home at last, no more to roam, 
As if borne by the floating breeze, 

And sure enough a beautiful lajid 
Appeared to the wandering child. 

And there upon her bended knee, 
She praised and thanked her God 

For sparing her and her only son 
From living a miserable slave. 



(jramdnia/Da's Birtl^day. 



ELLEN. 

To-day is grandma's birthday. 

Isn't it a lovely day ? 
I think she'll get a present. 

For I heard what father said. 

GRANDMA. 

You did, my child, hear father say? 

I wonder what it will be. 
I'm glad that some one thinks of me. 

Although I'm rather old. 



THE CtOLDEN rod. 23 

ELLEN. 

I always tliink of you, orandma, 

But Mary often says 
That I'm entirely for myself, 

And never think of you. 

GRANDMA. 

Wh}^, Ellen, I'm sure you do; 

You always think of me. 
Never mind what Mary says, 

But do your work instead. 

MARY. 

Oh grandmamma, just look awhile, 

Isn't this a beautiful dress? 
I'm sure it's like the one Miss Susan made 

For mamma the other day. 

Here are the specks which papa has given; 

Isn't it a wonderful pair ^ 
Just see how they fit, with perfect ease. 

From the nose clera back to ears. 

GRANDMA. 

Thank you, my dear; you are so wise, 

To think of your grandmamma. 
How glad I am to receive such a gift — 

Just what I have often desired. 

ELLEN. 

Why isn't a velvet just as good 

As that beautiful pair of specks; 
For a dress like that will look so fine, 

When made in the latest style. 

GRANDMA. 

Oh, my children, do not quarrel ; 

Grandma will look so well, 
With those lovely specks and velvet dress. 

Why, she'll be as young again. 



24 THE GOLDEN ROD. 



MARY. 

Hark! I hear the dinner bell. 

Can that be mother's ring ? 
I think she's calling you, grandma. 

Come, leave us be the hrst. 

GRANDMA. 

Stop your nonsense, Mary Ann, 

Your mother is not there. 
You'd better pick your stockings up. 

And help your sister mend. 

You know just what there is to do, 

Without my talking so. 
My days are few ; it won't be long 

Before I'll pass away. 

MARY. 

Grandma, you shouldn't talk 

Of troubles far ahead. 
You should be smiling and not scolding 

Yoa will live to be quite old. 

GRANDMA. 

Yes, my dear, that's very true. 

But you should bear in mind 
That you are young, while I am old. 

Your years have just begun. 

ELLEN. 

Oh, grandmamma, come, let us rest 
Beneath those cheerful trees, 

And watch the fishes in the brook, 
They are so playful there. 

What a delightful day it is, 
To be in the nice, cool shade; 

I hate to set indoors and sew. 
I only like to play. 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 



GRANDMA. 

Why, Ellen, that will never do, 

Why, you must learn to sew. 
Your grandmamma, when she was young, 

Could sew as good again. 

ELLEN. 

Indeed, I will not make a dress. 
That is entirely too much fun; 

I'll have my dresses sent away 
To be made by other folks. 

MARY. 

Suppose you're poor and have no means, 
Besides some children to feed. 

Your little flock will have no clothes 
Because you cannot sew. 

ELLEN, 

What do you mean by little flock, 

You mean a flock of sheep ? 
Why, they don't need a dress at all, 

They are already clothed. 

GRANDMA. 

Well, Miss Ellen, never mind 

About the things you hate. 
You'll some day have to eat dry bread. 

And remember what you've said. 

ELLEN. 

Yes, Mary is always in a mood 

For sewing or crocheting. 
But I rather be in the balmy air, 

And have a pleasant time. 

GRANDMA. 

Ellen, there's always time for play, 

As you call a pleasant time, 
And always time to read or sew, 

If you learn to do things well. 



26 THE GOLDEN ROD. 



MARY. 

You are right, dear grandmamma, 

I've always found it so; 
I now feel happy that I've learned 

To do whate'er is riglit. 

And, last of all, dear grandmamma. 

We say a kind good-night, 
For it is almost time for tea ; 

I see mamma has come. 

GRANDMA. 

Thank you, dear, and Ellen, too; 

You both did very well. 
Be careful now that you don't fall ; 

Those steps are pretty steep. 

Tell mamma, when you go home, 

I was surprised, indeed; 
I hardly know just what to say. 

But I tell you each good-by. 



Qr(^e\)\iJOod'$ Stippy n\eadovu. 



Through the Greenwood's sunny meadow, 

How delightful to be there. 
No rude sound save but the streamlet, 

As she gently Hows along. 

See the lambs upon the hillside, 
By their shepherd's tender care. 

How they trample o'er the grasses. 
As they frolic down the hill. 

Up and down the sunny meadows 

Daisies wander all alone. 
Blooming there with deep contentment. 

Fill the meadows everywhere. 

And she smiles upon yon heaven. 

Nature is the queen of all. 
There's no palace like the meadow. 

When her lovely flowers appear. 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 27 



For her toilets are of roses, 
Rich in fragrance and in hue, 

Blooming in her earthen vases. 
Watered by the flowing stream. 

See the glories of the morning, 
How they climb among the trees, 

Skipping o'er the tender grasses, 
In the meadows everywhere. 

Now the silver sails of evening 
Gather in the western sky. 

And the Greenwood's sunny meadows 
Lay in silence everywhere. 



(jold(?9 Days. 



Jesus leads us through the way, 

Though it may be dark. 
Faith and hope bring brighter days 

To the weary soul. 

Ah ! vain glory that appears. 
Be not our inmost pride ; 

Far beneath thy heavenly sky, 
Thy Master's eye is near. 

Where'er we walk, the golden sun 

Is shining on our way. 
To those who try to do their best 

Will surely gain reward. 

But if we murmur or complain 

About the horrid task, 
Then our golden days are lost, 

And rain-drops fall instead. 



28 THE GOLDEN ROD. 

How in a transient stream there lies 
Some evil and some good. 

Wherein, the one who dives too deep, 
Is surely lost or drowned. 

So like all things that God creates— 
Some evil and some good. 

But, after all, 'twas made for man 
To live, and to enjoy. 



C'f(?. 



'Twas only a rose-bud that fadeth away, 
In the twilight eve of a summer's day; 
Whence all were aglow at the morn's first beam, 
That shone around o'er the crystal stream. 

Yes, only a rose-bud in the leafy shade, 
Soon withers and falls to the earth again. 
vVhile life seems a vapor from the far-away shore, 
Only to cherish these flowers of mine. 

Ah ! sweet maiden, canst thou but tell, 
Where are the rose-buds thou lovest so well; 
Are they blooming by the river's side. 
Or parched and withered in the pands of time. 

I know not whither the dead leaves blow. 
When all were aglow in the bright sunny morn, 
But as I tread through the winding path, 
A soft wind sighs and the leaves have fell. 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 



Then back o'er tlie old rustic woodland I tread, 
And pause when I think of the good that have lied. 
Like rosebuds they bloomed, though scarcely a while^ 
When the Angel of Death had called them to die. 

Then, what is life but a rose-bud of time, 
Blossoms in the morn, in the eve cast down, 
While the years of toil within us roll. 
Make only a passage to another world. 



/r\y pr(?tty Citt!(? Bird. 



Where is your nest, my pretty little bird, 

Hovering around my window sill, 
Picking the crumbs that are scattered for you, 

Dancing around on your two little feet. 

My nest, said the bird, is high in the tree, 

Where the storms do not trouble me. 
Pee, dee, dee. 
And through the bright sunshine, 

I sing all the day, 
Till winter shall come again, pee, dee, dee. 

Then, off I shall fly to a warm, sunny clime, 

Where the snow cannot fall on me. 
Pee, dee, dee. 
Then away, I will sing, through the bright, sunny day. 

Till spring-time shall come again, pee, dee, dee. 



30 THE GOLDEN ROD. 



I^etijrQ of SpriQ^. 



We welcome you, 

Thou balmy Spring, 
For so many days have passed, 

Since you have smiled 
Upon earth's cold land, 

And breathed your balmy air. 

The great old elms 

Are clothed in green, 
With leaves of the richest hue. 

And they nod and bend 
In the breezy air, 

Rejoiced to see the Spring. 

And over the dell, 

Where the cowslips bloom. 
Beneath the shining sun. 

The moss half-hidden 
In the tall green grass. 

Gives thanks to lovely Spring. 

And over the way 

A silver stream, 
Surrounded by hills of green; 

It ripples and murmurs. 
As it flows along. 

To welcome back the Spring. 

The lark soars high 

In the deep blue sky. 
Over a world of greatest joy, 

While the robin builds his cozy nest. 
And chirps from tree to tree. 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 31 



And over the meadow 

Where the lambkins play 

Among the flowers so gay, 
Where the shepherd tenderly 

Delights to stray 
In the beautiful, balmy Spring. 

Then, lovely Spring, 

Oh stay with us, 
And fill the morning's air 

With blossoms of the richest hue, 
That dwell in the fragrant boughs. 



f/ou;, \:\)e pri^sei^t Jifn^. 



Now, is a little word. 

Yet it is plain and true ; 
For three small letters printed there. 

Means that time is near. 

And when you hear a voice within, 
That whispers soft and low, 

Telling you of a Savior dear, 
Now is the time to come. 

Then do not argue with the mind, 
But com« out brave and strong, 

And seek that everlasting peace 
Which the world can never give. 

Think of the world beyond the grave 

Of mortals gone before. 
And we in solemn footsteps tread; 

After those of whom we lovedv 



32 THE GOLDEN ROD. 

Then accept this little word, 
And be ready with a will; 

For another day may never come 
To give our hearts to Him. 

Christ loves those who linger not 
But come out with His name, 

Arid believe on Him, the only One 
Who lived and died for thee. 



I^aii^s of E'lmq. 



Oh how the time is ruined 

In more than a hundred ways ; 

Spending it in idleness. 
Without the slightest refrain. 

By some, 'tis spent in folly, 
From the very break of day 

Until the evening closes, 

With that little word, I can't. • 

Others, who live in slumbers 
And the folding of the hands, 

Till she's past some future treasure. 
And death alone remains. 

There are others who live in darkness,. 

In the very cells of life, 
Who never know about their God, 

Nor the fields of heaven above. 

Then let us rise from slumbers. 

Or worldly folliness. 
And think of our immortal soul, 

In a life that's yet to come. 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 33 



5tar of B^tl?Iel?era. 



Ob, Star of Bethlehem, 

Whose wondrous light, 
Shone in her radiant 

Pillow of night, 
Gazed on the fields, 

Where the still night lay, 
Shining in glory 

O'er Bethlehem's plain. 

Gayly the shepherds 

Were tending their Hocks, 
When the star of great wonder 

Appeared in their sight, 
Which told of a Savior; 

A little babe 
Was born in a manger 

On Bethlehem's plain. 
Gladly the wise men 

Followed the star, 
Bearing treasures of gold, 

Frankincense and myrrh, 
The people rejoiced, the angels sane 

For a Ruler was born 
In the land of Judea. 

Then, Star of Bethlehem, 

We thank thee for light, 
We thank our Redeemer 

For the blessings of life. 
The whole world was lost. 

If it were not for Thee, 
Who was born in a manger. 

In the land of Judea. 



'M THE GOLDEN HOD. 



St. ^Imo's Dream. 



I dreamed that I saw a maiden 
Whose beauty was like the morn. 

With voice as clear as a crystal, 
As she stood by the cottage door. 

The leaves, how they waved above her, 
When she gathered the wild flowers fair, 

Witk their tall, slender branches to hide me, 
Alone near the pathway below. 

Yet, never a look did she give me. 

For I stood where the wild flowers grow. 

With their tall, slender branches to hide me, 
Alone near the pathway below. 

There I stood, by the pathway, and listened, 
For the maiden was singing so gay ; 

How I fretted and longed to be with her, 
And join in that musical lay. 

But my heart was sad, and I murmured. 
That a maiden as happy as she. 

With only a plain little cottage. 
Could be more happy than me. 

While I, though my riches are many, 

I'm never contented as she. 
With only a plain little cottage, 

But a voice full of musical glee. 

Then, Oh how I long to be with her. 
And join in that happy, sweet song, 

But the leaves only nod in the breezes, 
And she heareth not a word of the plea. 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 



If I only could walk where the roses. 

Climb by the old cottage door, 
I would say to the maiden, "Good morning," 

And then be happy again. 
But I woke from my slumber in darkness, 

And found it was only a dream; 
But I fancied that I saw the sweet maiden, 

When I stood by the pathway alone. 



B\)oii(^\)ts of (;i?ildl?ood. 



When thoughts of childhood 

Present to the mind. 
And the faded eye-sight 

Has passed his time, 
Then the quivering lips 

Are heard to say, 
Once I was young, but now I am old. 

Many a day of long ago 

Has crept into my feeble mind, 

When to school I used to trot. 
In the happy days gone by. 

Through the fields I used to roam, 
When the skies were bright above, 

Seeking there the daisy wild, 
In the sunny days gone by. 

Often through the groves I've strayed, 
Spending hours of the brighter day 

Watching the rill, as it flowed along. 
Singing its murmuring song so low. 



36 THE GOLDEN ROD. 

In the evening shade, so cool, 

How I've sat and pondered deep, 
Thinking, when a man I grew, 

A lawyer was the charm for me. 
But, when the years crept at m}'- door, 

Not a sound of the lawyer's call ; 
For my childhood days have passed, 

When I was young, but now I am old. 

What regrets of long ago 
Have crept into our feeble mind. 

What I should do, or what I should be. 
When I was young, but now I am old. 

What money will buy those golden days? 

When the bloom of childhood fresh and fair 
The trouble and sorrows, he knows it not 

When he is young, but now he is old. 

Three score and ten allotted to man — 
Twice a child and once a man — 

But when those years are fully passed, 
Never again will the veil roll back. 



SiJ9b(?a/T)S. 



Sunbeams, through the door not peep 

Baby dear is fast asleep ; 
Shadows of the evening steal 

Around his little bed. 

Now the night is coming on, 
Angels are watching around us all, 

Sees and knows whate'er we do, 
And our pains and griefs within. 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 37 



Little child, remember this, 
That our Father watches, too, 

Guides His little lambs aright, 
When into the paths they trod. 



S09? of a 5<?am5tre55. 



Sew, sew, sew ! 

From slumber awake, to begin 
The toils of the day, 

That a seamstress contends 
With the noise and drawl of machine. 

Sew, sew, sew ! 

With thimble, needle and thread. 
Basting and cutting. 

Cutting and basting, 
Till lingers are weary of toil. 

Sew, sew, sew ! 

From the very depths below, 
In poverty's song 

There is never a charm. 
But miserable notes of woe. 

Sew, sew, sew ! 

How the bells in the steeple toll. 
And respond to the call, 

Their notes in full song. 
While a seamstress is busy at hand. 

Sew, sew, sew ! 

Till the eyes grow heavy and dim ; 
I sit here alone. 

Through the mid-summer day. 
Applying my needle and thread. 



38 THE GOLDEN ROD. 



Sew, sew, sew ! 

If I were only a man, 
I would sail on the sea, 

And never return 
"Where a seamstress is busy at hand. 

Sew, sew, sew ! 

From dawn till the evening tide; 
I think' I have finished. 

But, looking around, 
I still lind another to do. 

Sew, sew, sew ! 

A woman is never through. 
And if she has finished 

Her daily task. 
She still finds another to do. 



Opee fi\or(^ U/e ^taY)d. 



Once more we stand, 

A united host, 
Proud as our great 

Atlantic coast. 
No longer the trumpet 

Sound proclaims ; 
Freedom or death 

Awaits you here. 

For the sound of the war-whoop — 

That bloody chaise — 
Shall echo no more 

O'er the field of the slain. 
Nor the troops, in great splendor 

O'er the battle fields stand. 
Waiting, impatient. 

For the voice of command. 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 39 



Let glory abound o'er 

This broad sweeping land, 
Like the bird of the mountain 

Who iloats in the air, 
Whose banner shall wave 

O'er the land of the free, 
Who fought in the ranks 

Of a noble career. 

Think of the dying 

Who fell in the strife. 
For the sake of their country, 

So noble and grand ; 
No warning of danger 

Lay deep in their hearts, 
For a true, noble spirit, 

Was victory or death. 

Then, proud America, 

Whose waters divide. 
Whose bold Rocky Mountains 

Stupendously stand, 
Shall gather no more 

O'er her broad, sweeping land, 
Her millions of madmen 

To slay and to kill. 



U/I^at Fa9(:y Se(^s. 



Ah! behold the night so dreary, 

Not a star yet to be seen, 
While the drizzling rain comes pouring. 

Pitter-patter, down my pane. 

Oh, how often did the sunshine, 
Use to steal across my pane. 

Casting, here and there, a sunbeam. 
Making shadows on the wall. 



40 THE GOLDEN ROD. 



Then it was, when Uncle Billy 
Used to lead the cows to drink, 

Far away upon the pasture; 
How they followed up the hill! 

And I hear old Billy calling 
That the cows are in the corn, 

Tramping down what isn't ripe, 
All the seed wliich he has sown. 

What's the use of Billy's calling? 

Can't he drive the cows away? 
Look at Charley in the window, 

Soon he'll fall and break his head. 

Oh- what trouble are these children; 

How I wish that they were asleep, 
Always 'round their mother's apron. 

Coming in and out the door. 

While the dinner I am getting 
For the hands upon the farm. 

There ! I hear old Billy coming 
With the butter he has churned. 

Though it is but a fancy vision. 
While I sit alone and think 

That my children have all scattered. 
Since I lived upon the farm. 

And the drizzling rain keeps beating- 
Pitta pat, against the pane. 

How I wish to join the angels. 
With my children of the farm! 



THE CxOLDEN ROD. 41 



5I?<^ U/ii^d apd t\)e 1^056. 

A FABLE, 



The Wind said to the Rose one day, 

"Suppose we take a sail, 
And glide o'er the forest and throuo-h the 

Dell, and see old Motlier Well." 

The Rose turned to the Wind and said, 

"I will never leave my home. 
For who would moisten my pretty leaves, 

If I should go with you?" 

"I will moisten your pretty leaves, 

And carry you over the isles, 
To place you in that beautiful dell, 

Beneath the smiling sun." 

The Rose wouldn't listen 

To the Wind's reply, 
But raised her drooping head, 

And boldly said, 
"I will never leave. 

So you might as well be gone." 

"What is the reason you dislike to go? 

That is a beautiful dell, 
The flowers are lovely, the birds are singing. 

What more can beauty see ?" 

"Oh yes," said the Rose, "that may be true. 

But I prefer to stay. 
My home is plain, under the peaceful shade, 

I will never, never leave. 



42 THE GOLDEN ROD. 

''But do you not know that I am strong, 

What a powerful hand I hold ; 
Why, I am able to move a stone, 

Much less a rose like you." 
So then lie blew a heavy gale. 

Which sent her high in the air, 
And when she fell to the earth once more, 

She lay like a withered rag. 
The moral of this story is, 

That children must never talk 
To strangers whom they meet elsewhere. 

Lest for a moment they be deceived. 



51?^ pm(^rieai7 ^a(5l(?. 



Over mountains thy wings have fanned, 

Through fields of the cold, thin air; 
Far away o'er thy sweeping land. 

Thy wanderer sails along. 
Amid the song which is heard afar, 

From thy fellow- bird so gay. 
Flapping his wings o'er a sheltered nest 

Within some rocky cliff. 

And far above, o'er the ocean deep. 

Thy weary feet have lied. 
While through the mists of the blackest night, 

Far miles and miles away. 
When shall thy wings become weary of toil. 

O'er thy world of airy speed? 
When shall thou find a pleasant home 

Beneath thy heavenly sky ? 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 43 

Ch bird of prey, thy nest shall be 

Where the peaceful waters flow, 
And where the lily loves to bathe 

Within its crystal brink. 
So He who watches from on high. 

Can guide each wandering step; 
He feeds the birds through the boundless air, 

And clothes the lilies in white. 



J\}<^ Dude ay)d fT\i5S fr\ar\a. 

Once upon a Sabbath morn 

A dude passed along the way. 
And doflfed his hat to Miss Maria, 

A maid within a square. 

Maria's face a crimson bore, 

She knew not what to say, 
For this was really the lirst in life 

That Maria had caught a beau. 

A beau, indeed, for this queer old maid, 
For she seldom caught a glance. 

And if a fellow did chance to spy, 
She was ever in a sad affair. 

She somewhat favored the gi-ntle dude. 

Because he dressed so neat. 
And invited him to call on her 

Some evening in the week. 

So, Tuesday eve the dude arrived 

And called for Miss Maria, 
With his gold-headed cane and beaver black, 

He made a graceful bow. 

"Why, Miss Maria, how lovely j^ou look. 

This beautiful twilight eve. 
Your curls decorated with roses red. 

Your tiny slippers so gay." 



44 THE GOLDEN ROD. 



"Can this be true I" Maria exclaimed, 

As she wiped the tears away. 
While over and over she pondered well, 

Then said, "of course its true." 

And now tlie tears were washed away, 

No trace of them remained. 
For hope and love now looked so bright, 

Because the dude had called. 

The dude went home with a smile or two, 

To think how silly she was, 
To believe that he was really in love 

With a maid of sixty -five. 

So the following week Maria set out 
To purchase a handsome dress, 

A necklace of diamonds of the rarest kind, 
To wear on her wedding day. 

The day was set, the news was spread 

In the village of Miss Maria, 
And every hope looked forth so bright, 

As it never did before. 

The village houses were full of guests 
From the neighboring cities around. 

But no one dreamt that Miss Maria 
Would marry a foolish dude. 

For Miss Maria was ver}^ old, 

And in her younger days 
Her face was long and wrinkled up, 

And her hair combed very straight. 

But lo, the bell in the steeple tolled, 

Each wondering guest arrived 
To view the bride and lovely dude 

Be married this afternoon. 



THE GOLDEN KOD. 45 

Great heavens, said one 

Wliat a wonderful scheme, 
I really don't believe, 

I'm sure Miss Maria 
Would have more sense 

Than to marry a foolish dude. 

But just that moment the pastor came, 

Who took his favorite seat. 
Waiting and watchiiio- for the bride and groom 

To make their solemn vows. 

But alas, alas ! they never catne, 

A sad delay met they ; 
The bride was ready and waited for him 

Till the evening passed away. 

The minister rose from where he sat, 

And repeated the sad delay ; ' 

After singing a psalm, and a prayer or two, 

Dismissed in peace with all. 

The second day of Miss Maria 

Was very sad to her. 
For she complained of a fever high, 

Had gathered in her head. 

But nothing serious, I suppose. 

But a disappointed maid, 
For those who act as s\\\y as she 

Deserve the same in end. 

The lawj'ers had a sweet affair 

Of the dude and Miss Maria; 
The dude of which a heavy fine 

Was charged by his intended bride. 

So, after all, there isn't much fun, 

For falling in love too soon, 
'Tis better to be a maid for life 

Than to be fooled in this way by a dude. 



0»e sad. enM day at eMmiftey-swieep 

Qss ^Mce was lElack. tJkcMgk a t^mo^ sd swaei. 

For a dbeeEfU keait he boKu 
^W&at do j«» wi^ f the ladf replied. 

As sBie peeped idmmgk the hatf^open door: 
"^ wi^ yomr ^kSammey to 3««epc^ said ke« 

JLad caidkessly Kidded bis misL. 

-MjcMiMaejioswe^r' the lady e3Dclainw<pd. 

Iwi^ alai^H-lsoy Aomjiml 

Who win sweep my dmuKy cieait'" 
Ike fitidleMlow sooa kiasg kis liead, 

Aad masweied im a dear, sweet 1te»e. 
^My &]dM!s- wais laefe ia lAe hone of dK deep, 

So I ttake Mspteeeiaslead.'" 
"W^at a iKavefiHie l»©y f ar ~ ^ ^ ^ - Fprkr. 

Her ^es woe filled wiidi tr 
She faww it was Teiy wro^; ii : — 

lb retee ^ai hraine liitttle ^ ' - 
-Tea, yoa Bay hane aiy cftuiL ■ 

JLad whattevto- yoa wast, ^^ ~ ^ 
I lov^ to see a Ixaine litlle nasL 

JLhiioaig^yoa'^lmt acMOd.'' 

Soi^ <gf«idyiy IhRM^ Ihe halls of red, 

Tt^ ^rr";;^' sweep was h^d, 
7i- :' : ^jad his way, a© 



THE •»LI»Ey lir 



There he was left qiiiii& to Mjnise;i£. 

With notiiuig else to fear. 
Far dcnm belcnr were loTelj tojs. 

As cbildien lore to liare. 

Tet, tbe litde sweep nerea* stopped to tibink. 

Of the beautif al tojs b^ow. 
But kept his mind eo Imsy en^ai^ 

Tha.t he hadn^ a moment to spare. 

And wiiem his dailj task was o'er. 

As she was jdeased to see. 
That erexTthing: was im its place. 

As when deleft befoiCL 

A hs- ~ - — - sift thus he reeeiTed. 

r - .n iKmest lad. 

vr jandkeaztsolig^ 



!^?i9tiage door. 



48 THE GOLDEN ROD. 



B\)q BelL 



King, ring I thou doleful belU 

Through the ages chime thee welL 
I canst but liear thy echoes roll, 

In lofty accents far above. 
Oh ! wlien the winter's chilly blast 

Breaks o'er thy steep so grand, 
And covers deep thy pale, sweet forms. 

That once were like the summer's morn. 
Ah ! did I hear that solemn tread, 

Of footsteps marching to the grave, 
While lo ! the sound came to my ear 

Of sweetest music tolled for thee. 
Of souls that cherished ouce to die. 

Leave only a token, far behind, 
That others through this vale of tears. 

Shall tread the same dark, narrow way. 

Where wealth and fame in beauty stood. 
Each, hand in hand, of cheerful mood. 

No wistful thought beyond the grave. 
Till that sweet bell had chimed away. 

Oh, sailor, did thou cease to hear. 
Just when those chimes were ringing clear 

Nor asked from whence its music came, 
Till its sweet tone had died away. 

Then ring, ring! sweet bell of peace, 
Through many a morn or sunny eve, 

Oh, how I'd love to hear thee roll. 
In loftv accents far above. 



THE GOLDEN ROR 49 



'6\)q Battl(^ pields. 



Over battle fields we've trod, 

Where the wounded soldiers lay. 

Thousands scattered, here and there. 
Through the battle fields so red. 

For our hearts so often seen 
Through those battlements of war. 

When the tempest rage was o'er, 
Left our loved ones lying there. 

Forth to battle we were called ; 

Not a soul would dare to pause, 
For he loved his country dear. 

And his blood was shed for thee. 

How the voices swelled the breeze 
When a glorious victory won. 

And the rocket's fearful glare. 
Piercing through the summer air. 

And the enemy madly rushed, 

Through the fields he once did spy, 

Gaining there, on either side. 
Captives of the fearful tribe. 

Often have we trudged along 
Through the battle fields of war, 

Bearing neither food nor drink. 
Piercing through the summer heat. 

But when the battle rage was o'er, 
How the clouds began to roll, 

Threatening o'er the bloody fields, 
While the lifeless lay beneath. 



50 THE GOLDEN ROD. 



Oh those battle fields of war, 

No more thy weary feet shall fall, 

For they are sleeping side by side, 
Where the peaceful waters glide. 



!•?<? Ql?iircl7 Bell 



Hark ! I hear the evening bell. 
As it rings from yonder dell, 

Sending forth its sweetest toll, 
Over hills and valleys roll. 

'Tis the church bell that 3^011 hear 
Over by the village mill, 

Loud and strong it ever rings. 
In the morn and dewy eve. 

Often have 1 climbed the hill. 
With my playful lamb set free, 

And the sexton's voice I heard, 
As he stood beside the door. 

Oh. it seemed a glorious day ! 

Ne'er to part from me again. 
Seeds of kindness that were sown 

In my days of happy youth. 

Eager eyes have often gazed, 
In the midst of hill or vale. 

When those peaceful echoes rolled, 
Sending forth its jo3'ful toll. 

Yes, it is the old church bell 
That you hear so full and free ; 

Louder rings its joyful sound. 
In the morn and dewy eve. 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 51 



5I?e Qf^tJrcl? Yard (Jat^. 



The snow lay heavy and deep 

Upon the church-yard gate. 
And the wind he blew a misty sound 

Across the trodden path. 

There were sleigh-bells ringing gay. 

Who passed the church-yard gate, 
For this was the time to coast and slide 

Upon the snowy track. 

As soon as the gate Hew open 

By that mysterious wind, 
It closed again, with a heavy bang, 

Against the iron fence. 

How lonely and sad, one night, 

When the moon rose, early and bright, 
To think of our loved ones lying there. 

All covered with the glistening snow. 

But when the snows were gone 
And the flowers began to bloom, 

Then every tree looked forth so bright. 
Within the church-yard gate. 

And the mounds within the church-yard 
Were scattererl, far and near. 

With the fragrant flowers of Summer 
On the little graves so dear. 



52 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 



E\)e Dyii?^ (^I7ri5tia9. 



Speak I Oh speak, for I am waiting, 
Speak, for I am witli you still, 

While the turbulent water rises, 
Along its broad and shallow bank. 

And the dying man lay conscious, 
Conscious, that he knew it well; 

Soon his friends and wife around him, 
Ne'er would speak to him again. 

For the moments like the clock- ticks, 
Gaining faster more and more; 

Till the spirit, life eternal, 
Passes to a brighter world. 

Yet there was a smile about him, 
As a light was shining there, 

Glancing o'er the friends about him 
And his wife who t^tood beside. 

Then he turned and faintly uttered, 
''Mary, will you, when I'm gone, 

Promise to lay me near the brookside, 
Where the cooling waters sigh ?" 

"Yes, my dear, you shall be buried 
Where the roses tread the path, 

Where the sky is bright above you, 
And the willow silent weeps. 

And those sparkling eyes forever, 
Closed in silence once to part; 

Yet they will not sleep forever, 
But will wake and live ascain." 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 53 



5i/(? ^v/epJi}^ Sl7adou;. 



Softly glides the evening shadow; 

Softly flows the evening tide ; 
Blending o'er life's peaceful waters 

Starry pinion of the night. 

See the western hills a-gl earning. 

Gleaming with the setting sun ; 
While the silver sails beyond her, 

Steal across the sunny sky. 

Safely through the burrs and grasses, 
Robins seek their quiet nests, 

Birds and flowers now are sleeping 
Through the long and starry night. 

So the eagle of the mountain 
Vainly seeks a sheltered nest, 

From the stormy billows dashing, 
Where the peaceful waters flow. 

And the gentle breezes murmur, 
As they fan among the leaves, 

While the stars in beauty glimmer. 
Piercing through the Summer sky. 



5l?e Day is past apd (jope. 

The day is past and gone. 
The night comes gliding on; 

And the hours of men are past away, 
Like the waves of the ocean tide. 

But soon we'll pass away. 
From this dark world of sin. 

Where there shall be forever light. 
One bright eternal day. 



54 THE GOLDEN ROD. 



5l?e Cjera^itim. 



Close by a mossy liill-side 

A fair Geianium grew ; 
Her petals wore a crimson red, 

Her leaves were bright and fair. 

And there she bloomed almost alone, 

Half-hidden by a bush. 
The stars that peeped, the birds that sang, 

Gazed on that lovely queen. 

No gentle hand to cut the thorns, 
Which tried to hide her view; 

But the morning sun which shone abroad. 
Beamed brighter than before. 

And, thus, the bush of wicked thorns, 

In course of time, wns dr}^ ; 
For not a drop of rain had fell 

Since they were planted there. 

So, one fine morn, when the dew drops fell. 

That wicked bush was gone. 
And close beside that mossy hill ; 

The fair Geranium shone. 

Tiie moral of this story is 

That when we grow too tall. 
And try to hide our neighbor's view, 

WeTl be the first to fall. 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 55 



J\)q Old gobbler. 



In a little country village, 

Not many miles away, 
There lived^an old cobbler, 

Who mended old shoes. 
In his little, musty room, 

He sat there alone, 
With a hammer and an awl 

And a great box of leather. 

There, stitch after stitch, 

Until weary he grew. 
The noble old cobbler 

Sat busy at work. 
He hammered and sewed. 

With busy care, 
On a pair of old boots. 

So ragged and torn. 

What a beautiful day 

To be taking a walk, 
Inetead of sewing here 

At a pair of old boots. 
''To be sure," said the cobbler, 

"There's a great deal to do 
Before I can venture 

To take a stroll." 

Then, all of a sudden. 

He looked up, and smiled, 
At the clock on the wall, 

Just striking live. 
He thought to himself, 

Well, now III be through 
VVith these great old boots, 

So ragged and torn. 



56 THE GOLDEN ROD. 



So the cobbler worked, 

Through that bright, sunny day. 
In his little old room, 

So musty and dim. 
A rap at the door. 

And who should it be 
But old Uncle Joe, 

Who paid him well 
For the shoes he had done. 



5I?(? /HorpiQ^ D(^u/. 



Whither, amidst the falling dew, 
That falls from the distant sky, 

And sprinkles the drooping flowers 
That bloom in the vale below. 

As the dawn of early light 

Steals upon the drooping flowers, ' 
They awake from their quiet repose. 

So fresh from the morning dew. 

The birds sing from the tree- tops 
Their glad songs of praise 

To Him who sent the sparkling dew, 
So far, from the distant sky. 

Then let us rise, at early morn, 

And be in the balmy air, 
Or wander over the hills, so green. 

Refreshed from the morning dew. 



THE CtOLDEN rod. 57 



Tl?e Old Y(?ar. 



Swiftly run the hands of time, 
As the old year dies to-night. 

Round and round, each changeless day, 
Marks the flight of another's reign. 

When around a cheerful blaze, 

Thouglits may wander far and near, 

Days of sunshine, days of rain. 
The old year buries them all away. 

Days of danger crept around thee, 
While the night of shadow lay. 

Leaving there her heavy burden. 
Bearing sorrow to the soul. 

One more evening doth appear. 
With her toils and cares of day, 

One more thought brings back again, 
That the old year is no more. 

Yes, the old year dies with many. 
Leaving all their treasures bright. 

Many days have passed in labor, 
Since the old year first begun. 

Faster glides the midnight hour. 
Faster falls the glistening snow; 

Oh what joy there brings to-morrow, 
That the old year is no more. 

While the weary lay in slumber, 
Silence reigns most everywhere. 

Hark ! I hear the church-bell ringing 
Farewell to the glad old year. 



58 THE GOLDEN ROD. 



Tl?<? pilgrims. 



One stormy day in the Autumn tide, 
The May -Flower hand arrived. 

They took possession of the land 
Where the solid rock was found. 

They went to work that stormy day, 

And built themselves a hut, 
For they determined to live in peace, 

And serve for God alone. 

They brought their children to this land 
From a hard and stormy shore. 

That they might raise their little flock 
Where the flelds of freedom lie. 

And oh what thanks they gave to God 
For the many years they've spent, 

And now they reached a goodly land 
To live in peace once more. 

But alas when lovely Spring arrived 

A sad disease met they. 
Which took away some thirty men 

From that little band so dear. 

Yet not a murmur or complaint 
From those dear hearts so true, 

For they determined, if all should die, 
To live in peace once more. 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 59 



5l?e I^os(?bii)(^ U/oodlai^d. 



Down hy the rosebine woodland, 

Back o'er tlie fragrant hills, 
Dearer than dreams or of dreamers, 

Sweeter to a roamer's ear. 
There in that glowing woodland, 

Scattered near the flowing rill, 
Roses and the graceful lily 

Blooming in the quiet shade. 

Oh ! for its glowing waters — 
Melts every heart that hears. 

Songs of the birds and divers, 
As they sink in the silver brook. 

Bright are the skies above her, 

Pure is the zephyr breeze. 
Filled with the fragrant odors 

That dwell near the mossy bank. 
Gay are our hearts in the woodland. 

To tread for the wild flowers fair, 
Seeking there among nature 

The purest and brightest to wear. 
And over that beautiful woodland 

Shading the lovely below, 
Branches who wave in great splendor. 

In beauty and silence for thee. 
Then down by the rosebine woodland. 

Sweeter to the roamer's ear, 
Happy to the poet, who fancies 

That he sees it afar in a dream. 



60 THE GOLDEN ROD. 



51?e Qdjeer Old /T|aid5, 



Near Council Bluffs 

Lived two old maids, 
Who dwelt in a country frame. 

They built their ffres, 
Cooked their meals, 

And made a call each day. 
Thus, these old maids 

Were very queer 
And lived almost alone, 

If one should go for 
An evening drive 

The other was always glad. 

So through the roads 

The two were seen, 
In sometimes rain or shine. 

They loved to breathe 
The morning's air, 

And feel the chilly frost. 
They hated balls, and parties too, 

They were such dreadful things, 
To have young people enjoy themselves, 

Which they called very rude. 
But to the chapel they would go. 

And after church was over 
Would linger there an hour or two, 

Until the sexton came. 
Far better still they loved to go 

To funerals every day. 
They watched the papers, day by day, 

The death-roll ffrst to see. 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 



61 



And when the paper man had come. 

How happy would they be, 
That some poor soul, orice dear to them, 

Perhaps was deaid ahd gone. 

So, they read of Joseph Smith, 

Who lived about the hill, 
For many years a naturalist,^ 

Now has passed away. 

Quickly hirincr a rockaway. 
And o'er the bounding lields, 

The two old maids, with sunburnt face. 
Went speeding to the grave. 

Another time, a stranger near. 
Who met with sudden death. 

And never saw, while in his life. 
These two old sister maids. 

Yet they would go, in spite of all. 

To have a funeral ride. 
'"Tis alwa3^s right," they often said, 

''To show the dead respect." 

And every time a death occurred 
These two old maids were seen 

In front or rear of the solemn train — 
They ne'er refused to go. 

People wondered why these maids 

Loved a funeral so. 
They left their work and dinner, too, 

To have a funeral ride. 

Through winter snows or summer hail, 
These queer old maids would say, 

"Come, get ready, Susan Ann, 
Old Uncle Dan is dead." 



62 THE GOLDEN ROD. 

But alas, one day 

They chance to hear 
That Peter Joe had died, 

And off they went, without a word, 
To the sad old cottage frame. 
And as they drove to the cottage door, 

Old Pete was well and strong. 
He was surprised to see the maids 

So early in the morn. 
"Why, alive and well !" 

Exclaimed the maids, 
*'We heard that you were dead, 

And have come away 
From a bit of bread, 

So sorry to hear the news." 
"Well, do not fear," said Peter Joe. 

"Mary shall be my bride, 
And then we three shall have a ride 

To funerals every day. 

So off they drove, and never spoke 

To Peter Joe, so strong. 
But murmured and regretted much 

That Peter Joe was well. 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 63 



51?^ Siluer f[\ooq. 



Silver moon, so bright and clear, 

As a ruddy, fiery ball, 
Rise and shine o'er this world of ours, 

In the beautiful sky above. 

When the clouds before you roll, 

As to gather for a storm. 
Soon they quickly roll away. 

Leaving you to shine so fair. 
Silver moon, so bright and fair, 

Where are you roving, this lovely night? 
Over the hills and the valleys green, 

Over the bright and crystal stream. 
Then over the sea, thou lovely moon, 

Gazing down on the waters of blue, 
Through the clear and breezy air, 

Sliining forth so bright and fair. 



U/orH U/l7ile ti^e 5^9 Sl^ii^es. 



Work while the sun shines. 
Lest darkness should overcome; 

For blessed is he that worketh 
In the beautiful dawn of life. 

Work while the sun shines, 
When troubles o'er you roll. 

It will till your heart with gladness 
And bring a brighter day. 



64 THE GOLDEN ROD. 



Work while the sun shines, 

No matter how the task may be; 
For nothing yon hnd that's easy 

In this great world so wise. 
Then work while the sun shines, 

And be a soldier true, 
Like the Father of our Country, 

Great noble patriot. 



B\)<^ Xe/T^perai^ei? Fl3§. 



Stand up, stand up, 

For temperance true ; 
Fear not what others say ; 

There's death in those 
Who tarry long and woe to those who sell. 

Stand up, stand up. 

For temperance true. 
There's many a soul to save 

Out from the dramshop's wretched gloom. 
To heaven's bright home above. 

Stand up, stand up, 

For temperance true; be grateful for the strife. 
For the glorious work, to reach a soul 

And bring it out of gloom. 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 65 



Tl7(? JurH aqd tl?e K')'?'?^. 



On Gobi's sandy desert, stand 

The Turk and his iron bay, 
He halts the step of his weary stay 

Upon the sandy plain. 

The Turk awaited to see the Knight, 
Who was clad in his armor strono^, 

And greeted the Turk with a sneering smile, 
Within his guarded tent. 

'•What have you come for?" uttered the Knight, 

"Do you wish to take my place 
And leave me out on the phiins to starve 

Within the storms of sand?" 

"Nay, my friend,*' repeated the Turk, 

"I was sent by Officer Gray, 
That I may ask a favor of you, 

As a place in the Soldiers' Home." 

"Pray, my friend, who's Officer Gray, 

That you speak in favor so ? 
Was he here on the great highway, 

To escape from the storms of war?" 

"Oh no, brave comrade, that's not he. 

Do not offend me so ; 
For he has been a friend to me 

In times of the greatest need." 

"Ha, ha!" repeated the laughing Knight, 

''I do not know the man. 
There's nothing remarkable which I can see 

That makes him a friend to you." 



66 THE GOLDP]N ROD. 



"Then, if he is friend of yours, 

Why not a favor grant, 
Instead of sending you to me, 

Away on this sandy plain." 

"Because he has a smaller fund, 
And a great many men to pa^^ 

Wliile you have only to oversee 
The soldiers about you here." 

"Well, what of that," replied the Knight, 

"Haven't I as many demands? 
But I see no way of getting off 

On this simple question of yours. 

"What position can you withhold 

Among the soldiers here ? 
Can you rise at early morn 

And lead the camels to drink ?" 

"Oh yes," said the Turk, "I'm used to that, 

Away on these sandy plains, 
And never a moment will I rise too late 

To do an honest deed." 

"Well, here's a paper, which I have kept. 
Far away from America's shore. 

Stating that the earliest bird 
Is out before the dew. 

"And so, my friend, I should see you, 

At the sounding of the bell, 
Be ready to lead the camels to drink, 

Whichever the order may be." 

So, bidding the Knight a farewell eve, 

He promised to be in time. 
So, the Knight and he were friends at last. 

Away on that sandy plain. 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 67 



5I?<? Sqou/ SI^OlUQr. 



See, the snow is falling fast 

From the chilly clouds, so grey, 
And soon will cover the trees and flowers 

With her fleecy garments of white. 
Faster and faster the flakes flow down, 

Powdering the frozen ground. 
While the snow-birds chirp and flutter around, 

Or hop about in the snow. 
Beautiful flakes from the frozen cloud, 

How they hover about in th ai r, 
As if they were trying to play bo-peep. 

Away from their chilly sky. 
Over the meadows the frozen snow, 

Beneath the hanging clouds 
Not a sound is heard through the tingling ears, 

Save the sight of the beautiful snow. 
And over the forest a bugle sounds, 

From the huntsman hand, so brave, 
Chasing the rabbit, from tree to tree, 

Away o'er the glistening snow. 
Oh, beautiful snow from the frozen cloud, 

How you powder the trees and flowers. 
And cover the graves of the good and dear 

With your fleecy garment of white. 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 



5176 U/iQd, 



Oh, sincrme a song, thou cold whistling wind, 

Oil sing, while the stars shine above, 
The roses are gone, and the sweet violet ; 

There's nothing to cheer my poor heart. 

Oh sing for the Winter, while on his great tour, 

Is coming as fast as can be, 
The brooks will soon cease their sweet murmuring hymn. 

The snow flakes will answer instead. 

Then sing to the aged, sing to the poorest, 

Sing for the Summer is o'er. 
A dear one has left us in Summer's bright sunshine, 

To moan in the Winter's cold breeze. 

Oh what does he say when the skies are so drear, 
And the birds have all fled from the trees, 

Remember the poor ; remember, my child, 
Always remember the poor. 

And this he proclaims through the cold winter's day. 
When the skies are so heavy and grey, 

While the flowers are asleep in their cold sodden beds, 
And the hills are all covered in white. 

Then, sing me a song, thou cold, whistling wind; 

Oh sing, while the stars shine above — 
I feeleth the cold and heareth the sound, 

But canst not tell whither you come. 



THE GOLDEN ROD. 69 



Jipe U/aues. 



Break, break, thou restless waves 

Break o'er the ocean's foam, 
Thou canst o'ercome the heaviest gale, 

Though storms of a breaker's roar. 

Higher and higher ye waves roll on, 
As clouds have gathered from heaven, 

And that their waters come pouring down 
In a vast, tremendous basin. 

How the sound of the sea rides over tlie waves, 
As they rise and fall, with a dash, 

They beat away with a tremendous force 
Against thy cold grey rocks. 

Then smaller and smaller ye waves become 
When the ebb of tide floated near. 

And the rocking billows had ceased to roll 
Across thy great blue sea. 

Again thy rocking waves commence, 

Which is heard for miles away. 
Splash after splash, they never cease 

All through the mid-night gloom. 

And far away from thy distant shore 

They dash against some ship. 
"She's lost ! she's lost !" the captain cries. 

No hand to reach her there. 

Roll on, roll on, ye breaking waves, 

With all thy mighty power, 
And send thy waters of silvery grey 

Up near the beautiful sky. 



70 THE GOLDEN ROD. 



517^ l/illa(5e S^eT)e. 



Just over the hill-side, 

A quaint old village stood, 

With its tall and mighty towers, 
Almost pointing to the sky. 

And though the little cabins 

Were plain in their attire, 
Lived some of the best of people 

That dwell in any frame. 

The little social satherings 

Met once or twice a week, 
At each one's little cabin, 

With hearts of great delight. 

While through its deep green meadow, 

A silver brooklet ran, 
Bathing the tall white lilies 

That grew along its bank. 

Then over to the pasture 

Went Old Rover, the dog, 
To watch his yoke of cattle 

Under the leafy shade. 

And when the evening cometh, 
The cows were driven home. 

With faithful Rover by their side, 
They followed, one by one. 

Then over by the hill-side 
This quaint old village stands. 

With its tall and mighty towers 
That almost reached the sky. 



II 



